


keep me safe inside your arms like towers

by MissMorphine



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Friends, Fluff and Angst, M/M, POV Alternating, Pining, Sylvain and Felix are my disaster children, fair warning there is a bit of violence in this, this became less of a story and more of a series of connected scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 09:04:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20273407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMorphine/pseuds/MissMorphine
Summary: A glimpse into the lives of Felix and Sylvain from their childhood through to the end of the waraka it's a damn long journey until Sylvain finally gets that hug from Felix**heavy spoilers for Blue Lions route**





	keep me safe inside your arms like towers

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from "We Are Broken" by Paramore
> 
> Full disclosure: I'm actually playing the Black Eagles route, so a lot of the information was from YouTube or reading the scripts. As such, it's probably pretty likely that I've gotten some details off, so bear with me.
> 
> Canon conversations are mixed into the dialogue.

Sylvain was about to pick up his training lance when he heard a wail of his name. By the time he’d turned toward the source of the noise, a smaller body than his had tackled him into a hug. He looked down to see Felix already burying his head in Sylvain’s chest.

“Was it Glenn or Dimitri?” asked Sylvain, his hand already going to Felix’s hair. His fingers carded through the silky strands as the smaller boy sniffled.

With Felix in his seventh year of age and Sylvain in his ninth, Sylvain was the only one who didn’t tease or chastise Felix for crying. He actually liked that Felix comes to him with his problems. It made him feel like he’s the older brother Miklan was supposed to act like.

“…Dimitri…” Felix’s voice was small. His eyes were still watery when he picked his head up from Sylvain’s chest to look at him. Sylvain wrapped his free arm around Felix’s shoulders as his other hand continued to stroke his hair comfortingly.

“Whatever he said, I’m sure he’ll apologize for it tomorrow,” Sylvain said confidently. He made a mental note to himself to talk to Dimitri later and tell him to go apologize to Felix. If Dimitri put up a fight about it, Sylvain supposed he could always enlist Ingrid’s help…

“Hey,” Sylvain started, “Ingrid said her granny made some honeyed pears. Want to go get one with me?” Felix nodded, even though he didn't even like sweets. He clung to Sylvain’s arm as they shifted and started walking over to Lady Galatea’s house.

Ingrid’s granny, a woman who looked far too young to be anyone’s grandmother, had a tray of poached pears wrapped in puff pastry. She didn’t even bat an eye at the sight of Sylvain and Felix -- who was still clinging to Sylvain’s arm like a lifeline -- standing in her doorway. She beckoned them inside and sat them down at her table.

“I made one special for you, Felix,” Ingrid’s grandmother said as she set a pear in front of them both. “Less honey.” Felix beamed up at the older woman. Neither of them had even touched their treat when they heard hurried footfalls coming down the stairs.

“Is Glenn here?” asked Ingrid expectantly. She looks at the doorway, as if hoping that he would be around the corner.

“He’s training,” murmured Felix. Ingrid visibly deflated, and she went to sit next to Sylvain. She reached for the pear in front of him, but one look from her grandmother had her waiting for her own.

“I don’t get why you want to get married,” Sylvain commented around a mouthful of pear. “Being stuck with one girl for the rest of my life? No thanks.” Ingrid made a face at him and complained that he needs to finish chewing before talking.

“I’m not marrying just anyone,” Ingrid replied. “I’m going to marry Glenn. We’re going to be knights together, and people will write books about how great we are.” Sylvain and Felix share a knowing look as Ingrid starts talking about the newest book she read, something about knights and chivalry. In Sylvain’s opinion, they’re all pretty much the same story with different people -- not that he would tell Ingrid that. He was still reeling from the punch she gave him last time he told her that he thought her books were stupid.

“Thanks for the treats, Lady Galatea!” chirped Sylvain as he stood up. “We’re going to go train now.” With no intention to go training, Sylvain put his hand out for Felix to take. As they left the house and headed in the opposite direction of the training field, they both knew that they’re going to get in trouble when they get caught skipping practice. Sylvain considered the happy expression on Felix’s face as they went toward the lake and decides that whatever punishment from his parents will be worth it.

* * *

It was in Felix’s thirteenth year that Sylvain became interested in girls. Actually, Felix supposed, it was when Sylvain finally becomes successful with girls. He’d had to put up with Sylvain’s goddess-awful flirting for years now, and somehow, his charms had finally started working on the local girls.

Felix didn’t understand the appeal. He’d much rather be training that wasting time with frivolities such as flirting with girls. He was nowhere near Glenn’s level, and he knew that he’ll need to train twice as hard to catch up to him -- let alone try to surpass him.

“Sylvain!” Felix barked, startling both the aforementioned male and the girl he’s chatting with. “It’s time for training. Stop wasting my time.” Sylvain leaned in and murmured something in the girl’s ear, and Felix’s gut twisted with something ugly at the gesture.

“You know you could’ve gone on without me,” bemoaned Sylvain. “She was really pretty. I think we could’ve had something!” Felix resisted the urge to roll his eyes and concentrated on keeping his face blank to avoid showing his annoyance. He tossed a lance at Sylvain -- probably a bit rougher than he needed to -- and picked up his sword.

“If I didn’t pull you away from her, you would’ve never come to training. You barely come enough as it is.” Felix slipped into a fighting stance while Sylvain shrugged and leaned on the lance.

“She really was pretty,” sighed Sylvain. “Her hair was so long, even longer than Ingrid’s. I think that’s one of my favorite things about girls. They have such long, beautiful hair…” That ugly, twisting feeling returned to Felix’s stomach. Brushing the hair out of his eyes, he lunged for Sylvain -- who barely had time to dodge. Sylvain just laughed as he shifted the lance into a fighting position. He was still laughing as they began training drills, infuriating Felix to no end.

“Can’t you take this seriously?” growled Felix, his sword slicing through the training dummy after Sylvain decided that he didn’t want to be used for Felix’s target practice.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Sylvain placated. Felix tried not to tense as Sylvain threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him against his side. He shoved Sylvain away perhaps a bit too quickly and tried to ignore his heartbeat quickening at the older boy’s touch.

The room finally became quiet as both boys settled into their training routine. If it were up to Sylvain, they’d be talking the entire time; luckily for Felix, Sylvain respected that Felix liked a quiet environment for training. Of course, that respect could also have been due to the fact that Felix had bested him in a contest that would determine if Sylvain was allowed to chatter on during training.

Sylvain’s lance clattered to the ground as he dropped it, and he grabbed a towel to wipe off his forehead. Felix scowled, about to launch into what would have been his third lecture to Sylvain that week about treating the equipment properly, when the sight of Sylvain made him pause. His sweaty hair clung to the back of his neck, and Felix resisted the urge to reach out and touch it. Averting his eyes from where Sylvain was standing, Felix busied himself with cleaning his sword.

“How about we get dinner together tonight?” asked Sylvain. Felix raised an eyebrow skeptically, communicating without words that he expected this night out to turn into Sylvain hitting on every girl in the vicinity. “Oh, come on, I promise it’ll be just you and me. I won’t even invite Dimitri or Ingrid.” Felix pursed his lips in thought before putting his sword away, a sign that Sylvain had won. Sylvain beamed and ruffled Felix’s hair.

“Get off me!” grumbled Felix, swatting at Sylvain’s hands. Grabbing a strip of cloth, Felix reached up to tie his hair back. His hair was getting long, long enough to be easily tied back. Glenn would probably offer to cut his hair soon.

Being far too young for ale, none of the taverns they stopped in would even let them eat there. They stopped in at one of the restaurants owned by a local merchant family, and Felix noted that there were very few girls around their age there. Felix’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as he caught two girls looking at them and whispering to each other. He cast a glance at Sylvain, who had mercifully not noticed them yet.

“Hi!” Felix cringed as he looked up to see the two girls standing at their table. “You’re Sylvain, right? Of House Gautier?” Felix watched as Sylvain’s expression slipped into a devilish grin. He reached out for the young lady’s hand and kissed it. The girl cast a glance at Felix, who glared back at her.

“Apologies for my friend,” purred Sylvain, “he gets nervous around pretty ladies such as yourselves. Why don’t you ladies sit down with us for a meal?” Felix turns his glare toward Sylvain.

“Sylvain…” warned Felix. He held himself back from saying anything else, not wanting to risk sounding petulant. Sylvain simply smiled back at him and leans in, whispering that they just scored a double date without trying. As the two girls sat down, Felix idly stabbed at the remaining meat on his plate.

Sylvain did enough talking for both of them. The girls giggled at his grandiose stories, and Felix bit his tongue to keep himself from pointing out that they were all exaggerations.

“So, you have a Crest, right?” asked the girl, her fingers twirling a lock of hair between them. “That would make you the heir to House Gautier instead of your brother, right?” Felix caught Sylvain’s expression change; for a split second, his smile faltered and his eyes darkened, but within a blink of the eye, his face was back to his usual coy smile. Felix noted, however, that it didn’t quite reach his eyes the way it did before.

As the two girls chattered about House Gautier, neither of them noticed that Sylvain was barely contributing to the conversation. Felix’s hands clenched under the table at how transparent the two girls were being about marrying into House Gautier.

“You’re being a nuisance,” snarled Felix. Both girls turned to look at Felix with appalled expressions on their faces.

“I thought nobles were supposed to be well-mannered,” one of the girls sneered. “Sylvain, you’re not going to let him talk to me like that, right?”

“You’re not worth my time or his.” Felix glowered at the girls. He turned to look at Sylvain, who was looking away from all of them. Knowing that Sylvain wasn’t going to say anything that would risk upsetting the girls, Felix threw enough coins onto the table to cover his meal -- ignoring Sylvain’s protests that he was going to pay for both of them -- and stood up with an angry sigh.

Shutting the door behind him, Felix knew not to expect Sylvain to follow him out of the restaurant. He was probably mollifying the girls for his own selfish reasons. He would likely have a date with one of them set up by the end of the night -- and a date with the other next week, behind both of their backs. Shaking his head, Felix started down the path home by himself.

When Felix arrived home, the first thing he did was search for his brother and demand a duel with him. Glenn laughed, warning him that he wouldn’t win, but went to get training swords for both of them regardless. With the weight of the wooden sword in his hand, Felix felt the calmest he had been all day.

“It’s too late for training,” commented Glenn as he parried Felix’s strike and countered with one of his own. “Did you come to challenge me because Sylvain ditched you again?” Felix faltered, the distraction enough for Glenn to take advantage of as he knocked the sword out of his younger brother’s hand. With Glenn’s sword pointed at his chest and a grin on his face, Felix sighed and put up his hands in surrender.

“He didn’t ditch me,” Felix muttered. “I ditched him. He’s a fool, Glenn, constantly flirting with all these girls who only want him for his Crest and his title. He’s wasting his time on frivolous things like tea parties with deceitful girls when he could be training instead.” Glenn raised an eyebrow, as if to ask if Felix was done. Embarrassed by his show of emotion, Felix crossed his arms and looked away.

“Felix, one of these days, you’re going to realize that there’s more to life than training,” said Glenn, his tone taking on a teasing note. “Maybe you’ll start flirting with girls soon, just like Sylvain does.” Felix grumbled, shoving at his brother and muttering for him to stop teasing.

As both brothers headed into the house, Glenn tugged at Felix’s hair and mentioned that he was due for a haircut. With his face getting hot, Felix mumbled that he was going to keep his hair long before running up the stairs and trying to ignore the knowing look he felt Glenn giving him.

* * *

After the Tragedy of Duscur, their idyllic days of childhood came to an end. It wasn’t until the four of them were in the Officer’s Academy together two years later that their wounds began to mend. Felix had grown more abrasive and Sylvain more flirtatious. Their professor, a mysterious mercenary, had brought about changes in the academy that no one had expected.

Not long after the professor gained the Sword of the Creator did word come that the Lance of Ruin had been stolen. Sylvain didn’t need to have the culprit confirmed. He knew that only Miklan would be bold enough -- and foolish enough -- to steal the Lance of Ruin from their home. Once they were given their mission and it became common knowledge that Miklan was the thief that they were required to defeat, everyone had started walking on eggshells around Sylvain -- everyone except Felix.

He was certain that Ingrid was warning people about talking to him about Miklan, and even Dimitri kept asking him if he was really okay with the mission. However, Felix remained a steady constant, berating him about flirting too much and not training enough. Sylvain almost considered it a comfort to have Felix yelling at him -- because it was better than the pitying looks everyone cast at him when they thought he wasn’t looking.

When the time came for the mission, Sylvain had steeled himself for the inevitability of coming face to face with his brother for the first time in years. Despite attempts by his classmates to convince the professor to force Sylvain to stay behind for the mission, the professor agreed to keep him on the front lines. Standing in formation, Sylvain gazed over the walls to where his brother was hiding.

“Don’t hold back for my sake,” said Sylvain, his eyes dark. “My brother is going to pay for what he’s done.” Flooded with bitter memories of his brother’s mistreatment of him over the years, Sylvain tightened his grip on his lance.

Byleth’s battle formation allowed for Sylvain to stay near Felix. Sylvain was certain that it was on purpose, knowing how often he would seek Felix out on the battlefield. That deep-seated desire to protect Felix, despite Felix’s aggravated protests that he wasn’t the one who needed protection, had never waned.

Upon seeing his brother’s face contorted with rage, Sylvain was grateful for Felix’s steady presence by his side.

“Why have you come, you Crest-bearing fool?” growled Miklan.

“I’m here for the Lance of Ruin, Miklan,” Sylvain yelled. “Hand it over. I don’t want to humiliate you, but I will.” Please, Sylvain thought, please hand it over without a fight. Reluctant to fight his brother and willing to do what he must, Sylvain stepped forward. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Byleth holding her arm out in front of Felix to stop him from joining Sylvain. A firm shake of her head confirmed what they all knew; this was Sylvain’s fight.

“Hmph!” Miklan brandished the Lance of Ruin. “Hurry up and die already. If not for you… If it hadn’t been for you…” Sylvain held himself still, despite the urge to flinch at the words he had heard so often from his brother as children. Looking around at the ruined battlefield and remembering the destroyed villages, Sylvain’s guilt turned to anger.

“Shut up!” screamed Sylvain. “I’m so tired of hearing that! You’ve always blamed me for something that wasn’t my fault!” Sylvain didn’t ask for his Crest, just as Miklan didn’t ask to be born without one. Over the course of their childhood, Sylvain had wished frequently that his brother had been gifted with a Crest from the goddess -- if only so that Miklan would not hate him for having one. He had envied Felix during their youth, wishing for a kind brother like Glenn instead of a hateful one like Miklan.

“So you think you can take the lance from me, huh?” asked Miklan. His eyes were wild. “I’ll kill you…I’ll kill every last one of you!” Sylvain stumbled backwards as his brother lunged for him; he cursed himself for not listening to Felix about training more frequently. The lance grazed his side, slicing through the armor with ease. As Miklan smiled at the sight of Sylvain’s blood, Sylvain used the opportunity to thrust his own lance into Miklan’s chest.

Sylvain stared down at his lance, embedded in his brother’s chest, in horror. His hands trembled, and he let go of the lance, which still stayed in place even without his support. Miklan raised his arm slowly and ripped the lance out of his chest, throwing it back at Sylvain’s feet.

Neither Gautier brother noticed the darkness seeping out of the Lance of Ruin until Miklan howled in shock and pain. Dark, writhing tendrils slithered up his arm, and Miklan ripped at the tendrils desperately; however, they continued spreading faster and slowly sheathed his body in darkness. Miklan’s screams of fear and agony echoed off the ruined castle walls. He locked eyes with his younger brother; his horrified gaze staring out from the darkness was the last thing Sylvain saw of his brother before he was completed enveloped in darkness.

An inhuman scream pierced the night. The darkness gave way to claws and a tail, eventually revealing a demonic beast standing where Miklan once stood. The thieves scrambled to flee, but the beast caught onto one of the stragglers and crushed him beneath his claws before roaring.

“What the--” Sylvain stammered. “Miklan, is that you?” The Black Beast showed no recognition at Sylvain’s voice calling his name. Frozen in place, Sylvain was dragged back by Felix as the Black Beast swiped at where he was just standing.

“Sylvain, get it together!” Felix snapped. His hands were still bracing Sylvain’s shoulders as the Black Beast roared again. It raised a massive claw, ready to swipe again, when the professor stepped in and struck with the Sword of the Creator. The professor’s eyes narrowed, her expression settling into the blank canvas that earned her the nickname “the Ashen Demon.”

“What is that?!” asked Sylvain, horrified. “It’s like watching a bad dream come to life.” The Black Beast roared; its agonized screams were as if mere existence caused it pain. Byleth called for the class to fall back into their formation, a semblance of order amidst chaos. Attack after attack was volleyed at the beast, but it still stood tall.

Sylvain’s arms shook from exhaustion by the time the Black Beast finally succumbed to their attacks. His lance fell to the ground with a loud clatter, and he stumbled over to his brother’s body as the beast’s form gave way to Miklan. The Lance of Ruin lay next to Miklan, and Sylvain picked it up with trembling hands. He cradled the lance -- the weapon that turned his brother into a monster -- to his chest and wept. He cried not for the brother that he lost, but for the brother he should have had and for the chance they would never get to mend things between them.

“Miklan…my brother…”

Lost in his rage and grief, Sylvain did not notice Felix standing watch over him, keeping the others from him and allowing him to grieve in solitude.

* * *

If it was Glenn’s death that broke them apart, then it was Miklan’s that brought them back together. With more students flocking to the Blue Lions every day for their professor, Felix found himself often seeking out Sylvain amidst the sea of new faces. He had initially sought Sylvain out as a training partner, but Sylvain had taken the invitation for training as an invitation into every aspect of Felix’s life.

Despite wanting to claim that Sylvain was a nuisance, Felix didn’t quite mind the redhead’s company as much as he wanted to. A lazy, incorrigible flirt, Sylvain should not have been Felix’s first choice for companionship -- yet Felix often found himself waiting for Sylvain to stop by his room to invite him to dinner or walk around the monastery grounds.

As with all good things, however, it was not meant to last.

“Felix…” whined Sylvain. “Come with me into town. Let’s go chat up some girls.” Felix sighed, already annoyed.

“Chat with them by yourself,” snapped Felix. He turned away from Sylvain, who clearly did not get the hint. Felix sliced into a training dummy and tried to ignore Sylvain’s presence. “You’re interrupting my training. If you’re not going to train, leave.” Felix’s eyes were still fixed on the training dummy instead of turning around to look at Sylvain behind him.

“You work too hard, Felix,” admonished Sylvain. At the criticism, Felix whirled around and glared at the redhead.

“And you don’t work hard enough!” Sylvain’s eyes widened as Felix stalked toward him. “Don’t you realize that you’re endangering everyone when you step out onto the battlefield unprepared? I can’t look out for you forever, and I can’t keep fixing your mistakes!” Felix knew had crossed the line the moment the words left his mouth. Sylvain’s expression was blank, but Felix knew him well enough to know that it was a well-practiced look.

Too stubborn to apologize, Felix hung up his sword and brushed past Sylvain on his way out of the room. He was just down the hall from his room when he nearly walked into Dimitri coming out of his own room. Already annoyed with his conversation with Sylvain, Felix tried to brush past Dimitri without talking to the other boy.

“Hello, Felix,” started Dimitri, “Sylvain was looking for you. Have you spoken with him?” Felix closed his eyes and tried not to let his aggravation show. There was no chance of him getting to his room without a conversation with the boar.

“He just wanted to see if I would go with him while he picked up girls,” scoffed Felix.

“Ah, I suppose that makes sense,” Dimitri replied. “I had hoped that he would have been seeking you out for something more substantial, but I am not entirely surprised.” At that, Felix couldn’t hold back a derisive noise. Dimitri raised an eyebrow, silently questioning Felix’s response.

“Sylvain doesn’t care about anything ‘more substantial,’ Boar. He’s vapid and selfish. Surely even you have recognized that.” His words were harsh, harsher than he meant for them to be, but Sylvain often had that effect on him; with Sylvain around, everything felt far too intense for Felix’s liking.

“You can’t mean that,” Dimitri scolded. Felix was ready to snap at him, but the prince continued talking. “He thinks of you like a younger brother…”

“Stop talking,” growled Felix. “Just stop talking.” His emotions were running hot, but he couldn’t pinpoint the reason why. He would be ashamed later when he realized that he lost control of himself in front of the boar of all people.

“I apologize,” Dimitri said with a slight bow. “I must ask, however…is this because of--”

“You don’t get to say his name!” Felix’s eyes were wild with rage. “Don’t bring him into something that has nothing to do with him!” Unwilling to continue the conversation and furious with himself for revealing so much emotion to the prince, Felix brushed past Dimitri and into his room. Shutting the door behind him, Felix leaned against the steady wood separating him from the outside world.

With the adrenaline of fighting with both Sylvain and Dimitri ebbing away, a sense of regret settled deep in Felix’s chest. Somehow, he always wound up saying the wrong thing or saying something he didn’t mean. To Sylvain, especially. Sylvain had to be some sort of fool to allow Felix to treat him so harshly and keep coming back.

_He thinks of you like a younger brother._

Felix scowled, thinking back to Dimitri’s words. He had no desire to be Sylvain’s younger brother. He wanted to be…

No.

Felix’s hands went to his head, and he slid down until he was sitting on the floor. It was almost laughable, how absurd the idea was. He couldn’t be in love with Sylvain. Sylvain was an insatiable flirt, one who was only interested in women. Sure, he was willing to put up with Felix’s prickly behavior, but it was only a matter of time until Felix drove him away permanently.

Still…the realization lingered.

* * *

Five years passed. When the professor and Rhea both disappeared, the Blue Lions broke apart into various directions across the continent. Edelgard’s war had turned Fódlan into a battlefield. The Kingdom was nearly overtaken, with just Houses Gautier and Fraldarius holding strong.

“Honestly, Sylvain,” groaned Felix, “could you at least try not to get injured in every battle?” Sylvain grinned sheepishly and waved his good arm, causing Felix to scowl. Felix’s hands were surprisingly gentle while applying the bandage to Sylvain’s injured shoulder.

“I’ll be fine!” Sylvain replied cheerily. “We’ll see Mercedes at the monastery today, and if it’s still an issue, she can heal it right up for me. She can’t resist my good looks, after all.” Felix continued to scowl and tightened the bandage perhaps a bit more roughly than needed.

“That’ll do for now,” Felix grumbled. He crossed his arms and stared out at the long stretch of road ahead of them. It would be a while until they met up with Ingrid on the way to the monastery. They weren’t even sure if the others from their class would be there, if they all remembered their promise to return for the millennium festival.

“Felix?” Sylvain waved a hand in front of Felix’s face; he was certain that Felix hadn’t been paying attention to a word that Sylvain had said. Felix wrinkled his nose and stepped back, looking annoyed at having Sylvain so close to his face. “I asked if you were ready to ride Genevieve with me.” The black mare stood patiently, waiting for her rider. Felix’s eyes widened, and he shook his head vehemently.

“I can walk fine, Sylvain,” muttered Felix.

“But it’ll take us half the time if you rode on a horse with me,” argued Sylvain. “We don’t have a second horse, and we’ll miss the rendezvous with Ingrid if you’re traveling on foot.” Felix sighed before reluctantly acquiescing. Sylvain climbed onto the horse first and reached his hand out -- the good arm, thankfully -- to help Felix up.

Felix’s hands held onto the saddle awkwardly. Sylvain smiled, although Felix couldn’t see it from his place behind Sylvain. He reached out and took Felix’s hands away from the saddle and placed them onto his waist.

“You’re going to need to hold onto me if you want to stay on,” quipped Sylvain. He looked over his shoulder to see Felix, red-faced, looking at the ground next to him. Certain that Felix was embarrassed about needing Sylvain’s help, the redhead chose not to comment further.

Hours passed, and the terrain grew greener as they traveled further from the frigid mountains of the north. Sylvain had filled the silence with mostly idle chatter, ranging from memories of the monastery to rules of the board games that Felix considered a waste of time to play. Felix, unsurprisingly, rarely contributed to the conversation. The only topic Sylvain didn’t touch was the war. For a few hours, he wanted to be able to forget about the war ravaging their world.

House Galatea’s territory was still a while away when Sylvain felt Felix press himself up against his back. Felix had taken watch the previous night, and despite his claims that he didn’t need sleep, Sylvain knew he was tired -- Felix would’ve never gotten so close to Sylvain if he was fully alert. His arms wrapped tighter around Sylvain’s waist, and his head turned so that Felix could rest his cheek on Sylvain’s shoulder.

Sylvain, wisely, chose not to say anything. The warm weight of Felix against his back steadied his composure. There was so much ugly, complicated history between them that Sylvain wasn’t sure what it was that made them drift apart, but these were the moments that Sylvain missed the most: moments when Felix finally let his guard down.

As they neared Galatea territory, Sylvain spotted a white Pegasus waiting with its rider at the border. Ingrid waved, and Sylvain nudged for Genevieve to gallop.

“Warn me before you do that!” yelled Felix, his arms tightening around Sylvain to avoid falling off the horse. Sylvain laughed and apologized, stating that he’d forgotten in his excitement of seeing Ingrid. The mare slowed to a trot and then finally stopped upon reaching Ingrid. The two horses sniffed the other before leaning against each other, remembering the other as an old friend.

Ingrid’s house had not fared well during the war. With the financial woes that House Galatea had suffered in recent years, they succumbed quickly when the Empire invaded. Ingrid had fled to avoid capture. In her travels, she had discovered the few Kingdom loyalists still living in Faerghus.

“There is an inn not far from here where we will be safe to stay the night,” said Ingrid. As Felix began to protest, Ingrid cut him off. “Genevieve and Titania will need to rest if we hope to make it to Garreg Mach. I won’t have anyone’s stubbornness putting our mounts at risk.” With Sylvain’s agreement, the three battle-weary and bone-tired soldiers marched toward shelter.

The innkeeper knew Ingrid well, well enough at least to recognize her and her Pegasus. With both Titania and Genevieve in the stables for the night, the trio went ahead to find a hot bath and a bed. The innkeeper apologized profusely that he only had two rooms to spare for the three of them, but Sylvain had merely winked and said that he’d love to share with a beauty such as Ingrid.

That comment earned him an elbow to the stomach.

Ingrid took off for her own room and called out over her shoulder that Sylvain should consider himself lucky if Felix lets him sleep on the floor. Grumbling, Sylvain walked up the stairs. The room was small -- it would barely be classified as a bedroom -- but it was the first time either Sylvain or Felix had seen a bed in months. Sylvain was about to collapse onto the bed when Felix grabbed him by the back of his collar and pointed him toward the washbasin.

“You are not getting your filth onto the bed,” groused Felix. Sylvain groaned, giving the bed one last mournful look before dragging his feet. The water was cold, but it did the trick of washing away the grime on both of them. Sylvain was almost about to fall asleep when he saw Felix struggling to get the knots out of his hair.

“You’re not going to have any hair left if you keep pulling so aggressively,” teased Sylvain. He sat up in the bed and motioned for Felix to come over to him. He guided Felix to sit in front of him and plucked the brush out of Felix’s hand. Sylvain ignored Felix as the dark-haired male protested that he was capable of brushing his own hair.

“Just let me do this for you,” Sylvain whispered in Felix’s ear. He felt a shiver run through Felix, and he questioned if the other boy was feeling cold -- a question that Felix elected not to answer.

Although Sylvain’s hair had also been subject to much neglect because of the war, his hair had not been nearly as difficult to tame as Felix’s was. With patient hands, Sylvain eased the knots from Felix’s hair and smoothed out the strands. Felix’s eyes were closed, and Sylvain was certain that Felix didn’t realize the noises of contentment he was making as his hair was brushed out. It was almost…cute.

Sylvain’s hands paused briefly as he considered that he had just thought of Felix as cute. With Edelgard’s army sweeping through the continent and Dimitri missing, Sylvain didn’t have the luxury to continue down that train of thought -- a train of thought that Sylvain was scared to take regardless. Putting down the brush and finger combing through Felix’s hair one last time, Sylvain smiled wistfully.

“Thank you,” Felix murmured. He turned around to look at Sylvain and gave a meaningful look. “And…thank you for today, in battle. You saved my life today, and all I did was scold you for getting injured. I should’ve thanked you.” Sylvain’s heart skipped a beat at the open expression on Felix’s face.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Sylvain replied. He laid down and pulled at Felix’s arm to drag him down as well. “Don’t even say it. Neither of us has seen a bed in months, so I’m not sleeping on the floor and I’m not going to let you sleep on the floor either.” Felix raised an eyebrow, as if questioning the other male, before turning to face away from Sylvain.

“I’m too tired to argue. Just stay on your side of the bed.” Sylvain smiled -- although Felix couldn’t see it -- before turning to face away from Felix. He ached to reach out and touch Felix, but he did not turn around. Sylvain waited until he heard Felix’s breathing even out before finally succumbing to sleep himself.

Morning light came streaming in through the windows, and Ingrid was knocking on the door. Sylvain groaned as he heard the door open -- knowing that Ingrid was not going to let him sleep any longer -- and shifted to sit up when he noticed an arm thrown across his waist. During the night, he and Felix had somehow shifted so that their chests were pressed together; Felix’s arm was wrapped around Sylvain’s waist, and Sylvain’s arm was draped over Felix’s back.

“Should I come back later?” asked Ingrid, her face red. Sylvain’s face was equally as flushed as he carefully removed himself from Felix’s grasp -- he was rather certain that Felix would kill him if he woke up and found that Sylvain had been cuddling with him in his sleep.

“Please don’t say anything to him,” Sylvain whispered. Ingrid looked as though she wanted to say something before deciding against it. She simply nodded and told Sylvain that she’d be waiting downstairs for them to be ready to leave. With one last look at Felix, Sylvain left the warmth of the bed to prepare for the day.

The day of the millennium festival had finally approached, and Sylvain hoped desperately that it would change the tides of the war. As they neared Garreg Mach, the din of battle could be hear from miles away. Locking eyes with Ingrid, Sylvain nodded his agreement to speed up their pace.

A gruff voice -- a voice that sounded like Dimitri -- called out for the slaughter of all the rats. Sylvain slowed Genevieve to a stop and allowed Felix to climb down before they entered monastery ground. On the day of the millennium festival, ghosts from the past had risen to join them. Dimitri and the professor -- both long considered missing or dead -- were standing on the field of battle. Sylvain held himself back from crying out at the sight of them both.

What hindered Sylvain’s joy, however, was the sight of blood covering Dimitri and the eyepatch that had not been there prior to their last meeting five years ago. His voice was rough, as if it had not been used in ages. His visible eye was crazed, and for the first time, Sylvain questioned if Felix was right all along that Dimitri had the heart of a savage animal.

Gripping his lance and casting a glance over at Felix, Sylvain steeled himself for battle and prayed that it would not be their last.

* * *

The professor’s return marked a turning point in the war. The former students of the Blue Lions were back together, and Garreg Mach had been cleared of thieves. With Garreg Mach as their base of operations and Byleth as their tactician, Felix was willing to believe that the Kingdom stood a chance. Their biggest issue to overcome, however, was Dimitri.

The prince’s overwhelming desire for Edelgard’s death was concerning. Even the professor, as taciturn as she was, had expressed her worry about Dimitri’s mental state. Many in the army had questioned if going to Enbarr was a tactically sound decision, but there was no changing Dimitri’s mind. Their army would go through Gronder Field and march to Enbarr.

What no one expected, however, was that both the Alliance and the Empire had come to Gronder Field as well. Felix noted, with no small amount of irony, that their mock battle of the Battle of the Eagle and Lion had come back to haunt them. Former friends from their academy days dotted the battlefield; Felix closed his eyes and took a steadying breath.

Fire rained down from the sky. Entire sections of the army were wiped out in seconds, and it looked as though the battle would soon devolve into chaos. Byleth, however, kept a steady hand on the battle; she shouted orders and wielded weapons with such ease that no one would believe that she had been sleeping for five years.

Claude’s army retreated first, a strategic decision that surprised no one. This battle was not the Alliance’s problem. With just Dimitri and Edelgard standing face-to-face, Felix couldn’t help but hope that this would mean an end to the war. He cast a glance over at Sylvain, who had sustained minor injuries that Mercedes was attending to, and hoped that this would be the last time that he would see Sylvain injured.

Dimitri struck.

Edelgard faltered, but she did not fall; instead, she fled the battlefield. Dimitri roared in anger, demanding that he would have her head, as Felix’s father held the king back from chasing after Edelgard. As Dimitri gathered himself, a young maiden with manic eyes ran out onto the battlefield.

The girl screamed as she lunged for Dimitri. Felix could only watch in horror as his father stepped between the girl’s blade and the king’s back. He stumbled forward, but a pair of hands steadied him. Without looking, Felix knew that Sylvain was the one holding him in place as Byleth struck down the would-be assassin -- but the boy who would cry in Sylvain’s arms died a long time ago. The world turned into white noise as Felix watched his father’s body collapse onto the ground.

Byleth signaled for their retreat back to Garreg Mach. The battle was over, and they needed to tend to any wounded who had a chance of survival. Ingrid took Lord Rodrigue’s body, and Sylvain took Felix. Felix allowed himself to be guided back to the monastery, too numb to fight it. Heavy rain began to fall, but Felix couldn’t feel anything. Both his brother and his father had died for Dimitri, but the world was no better for it.

The funeral was a quiet affair. Ingrid apologized that they could not bring Lord Rodrigue back to Fraldarius territory for a proper burial. Sylvain promised to look out for Felix and the Fraldarius lands. Felix didn’t say anything at all. He stared down at his hands, dirt still trapped beneath his fingernails from digging his father’s grave -- a task he refused to let anyone help with.

Felix had planned to go back to his room, but Dimitri had called his former classmates over to apologize to them. For the first time since he saw the blade strike down his father, Felix felt something; he felt angry.

“And how do you intend to make up for my father’s death?” asked Felix, his voice stony.

“Felix…” Dimitri’s voice was softer than usual. “I realize words are not enough to repent, but they are all I have.”

“More empty words,” spat Felix as he turned to leave. He lingered just long enough to catch Dimitri state that things could never be as they were again, and the best he could hope for was to make things whole again. The words sent a pang through Felix’s chest; they were a grim reminder that there was nothing Dimitri could do to make Felix’s family whole again.

Felix allowed himself to skip training the next day.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

Felix made no effort to leave his room, so it was Sylvain that came to him. Each day, Sylvain would come with food and ask if Felix wanted to train with him. When Felix ignored the question, Sylvain would stay with him in silence -- a silence so prolonged that Felix wouldn’t have believed Sylvain was capable of holding his tongue for so long.

It was on the fourth day after his father died that Felix agreed to go training with Sylvain. The shocked look on Sylvain’s face told Felix that Sylvain wasn’t expecting him to agree, but Felix needed the familiar weight of a sword in his hand. He slashed through training dummies until the ground was littered with hay and the burlap hung limply from the post. Breathing heavily, Felix dropped his fighting stance.

Felix looked over at Sylvain -- who was hammering out the dents in his armor -- and made a promise to himself that his father would be the last person he would lose in their war.

* * *

After Dimitri and Byleth met with Edelgard -- a decision that Sylvain and many others considered unnecessarily foolish -- the battle for Enbarr was set. The Kingdom’s army would march upon Enbarr and face their destiny there. Come the next morning’s light, the battle would start. Hidden in the ruins of an abandoned castle, the army had one last night before blood and swords would be drawn.

Sylvain sought out Felix, who was unsurprisingly far away from the rest of the camp. A lone figure at the edge of camp, Felix sat near a small fire. Sylvain sat down next to the other male and handed him a piece of dried, salted meat. Rations were scarce, so dried meat was the best they could get for a final dinner -- although Sylvain was trying not to dwell too much on the “final” part.

“Do you remember that promise we made as kids?” asked Sylvain. He closed his eyes, thinking back. Glenn had just died in the Tragedy of Duscur, and Felix had demanded that Sylvain promise him that he wouldn’t die until Felix did. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if Felix would still remember their promise; Felix was hurting so badly when they made it that Sylvain wouldn’t blame him for forgetting it in his grief.

“Of course I do,” replied Felix. “We promised that we would die together. Why are you asking me about old promises, Sylvain? Are you planning on dying tomorrow?” Felix’s tone held an edge of worry, an edge that only Sylvain would have been able to detect. Sylvain slid closer to Felix and wrapped his arm around the other’s shoulders.

“Sorry, Felix, I’m not planning on dying, so it looks like you’re going to still be stuck with me,” said Sylvain with a laugh, but the laugh was forced. Felix looked at Sylvain quizzically, asking without words if Sylvain was really alright. “I’m fine, Felix, really.”

“Don’t lie to me,” grumbled Felix. “And don’t expect me to fall for such obvious lies. There’s something on your mind, so you might as well tell me now instead of letting it distract you in battle tomorrow.” Sylvain sighed.

“I don’t want any of us to die,” Sylvain confessed, “but I’m terrified that we will. I don’t want to lose anyone.” He turned to look at Felix and watched the shadows cast by the fire dance across Felix’s visage. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Don’t be foolish.” Felix shrugged Sylvain’s arm off his shoulders. “I’m surprised you’re choosing to spend your time with me instead of looking for a pretty girl. You aren’t here because you got rejected, are you?”

Sylvain knew exactly what Felix was trying to do. He was well used to Felix trying to push people away when they started getting too close to him. Instead of taking the bait, Sylvain just laid down on the dirt and stared up at the stars above them.

“If tonight’s going to be my last night in this world,” said Sylvain, “then I want to spend it with someone who likes me for me, not someone who wants me for my Crest or my status.” Sylvain turned to Felix, who was looking down at him with an unguarded expression. Upon being caught, Felix turned to look back toward the fire.

“I never said I liked you,” Felix muttered, earning a laugh out of Sylvain. “You are my most aggravating friend…but you are my friend. So stop acting like you’re going to die tomorrow, because I don’t plan on dying tomorrow and I don’t plan on letting you out of our promise either.” Felix reached down and pulled Sylvain up with an exasperated sigh. Taking the bucket of water next to their fire, Felix poured the water over the flames until there was nothing left but smoke.

When Sylvain reached for Felix’s hand, he was expecting Felix to pull his hand away and berate Sylvain for touching him. He wasn’t expecting for Felix to turn his hand to allow Sylvain to more easily join their hands together. The dark-haired male was pointedly looking off toward the trees and muttered that he was simply indulging Sylvain’s whims.

Sylvain knew that the coming day’s battle would decide the fate of Fódlan, and all their lives hung in the balance. He cast one final glance over at Felix before they parted ways for the night and made another promise -- a promise to himself that he wouldn’t allow anything to happen to Felix.

* * *

Dawn arrived far too quickly for anyone’s liking. The clash at Enbarr would not end until Dimitri or Edelgard was dead. The emperor was in the throne room waiting for the Kingdom’s forces, and Imperial soldiers filled the castle. Felix gripped his sword and looked out at the battlefield with a steady gaze. The war ended today.

Metal screeched as weapons clashed. Mages lit up the field with long distance spells. The battle had begun, and blood was quickly drawn on both sides. Felix slashed through enemies, cutting down all who came near him. He was fast enough to get the first strike and make it count.

Felix didn’t see the soldier behind him until it was too late. He raised his shield to block the blow, but the war hammer never fell. His eyes widened in horror as he saw a shock of red hair dart in front of him and then collapse to the ground. A scream ripped through Felix’s throat, and he turned his rage onto the enemy soldier, felling him with a single blow.

Felix threw down his sword and knelt down next to Sylvain. His hands were shaking as he ran his hands over the crushed armor, and he screamed for a healer. Sylvain grabbed onto Felix’s hand, and Felix tried to ignore how slick their hands were with Sylvain’s blood.

“Don’t let them bury me here,” coughed Sylvain, his mouth red with blood. “Take me back to Faerghus, Felix, please.” Felix started to shake his head. He gripped Sylvain’s hand tighter and put his other arm beneath Sylvain to lift him up.

“You’re not dying here, Sylvain,” Felix said, an edge of panic creeping into his voice. “You’re not dying here. Goddess, Sylvain, why would you do that?” Sylvain’s eyes started to close, and Felix screamed for him to keep his eyes open. He searched frantically for Mercedes on the battlefield, but she was nowhere to be seen. The clash of the armies made it too difficult to find anyone.

“I don’t want to live in a world without you.” Sylvain's voice was getting weaker.

“You never asked what I wanted, Sylvain…I don’t want to live in a world without you either, so you can’t leave me.” Felix screamed again for a healer. “Please Sylvain! You can’t break our promise. You can’t…you can’t leave me behind.” Sylvain’s eyes closed, and this time, Felix couldn’t get Sylvain to open them again. Another scream tore its way through Felix’s throat. He roared until his voice gave out and his throat was raw.

A pair of hands tried to pull Felix away from Sylvain, and he fought wildly against them. It wasn’t until he saw the brightness of Mercedes’s hair in front of him that he was willing to step back. With Manuela and Mercedes taking Sylvain out of the castle, Felix felt hollow.

He turned his eyes toward the remaining Imperial soldiers, and he picked his sword back up. He would make them pay. He would make them all pay. Fighting with a ferocity that rivaled Dimitri at his most savage, Felix tore through enemies until there was no one left standing.

When Dimitri struck Edelgard down, there was no cheering. The war had taken too much out of everyone for any expressions of joy. Felix dropped his sword as he swayed on his feet from exhaustion. The last thing that he saw was the professor running over to him as the world went dark.

Felix’s eyes fluttered open, and he threw himself out of the bed he was lying in. He looked around wildly, finding himself in what looked to be an infirmary. Manuela, Mercedes, and an array of other healers were running about the room. He found himself running toward them without thinking.

“Sylvain,” Felix choked out, unable to say more than his name. His heart beat wildly with hope. Mercedes and Manuela exchanged a glance, and Felix’s blood went cold at the exchange.

“He’s alive,” Mercedes said gently, “but he’s not awake. He is not out of the woods yet.” Felix nodded, unable to say anything. “I can take you to him, but you must be careful with yourself as well. You sustained many injuries, Felix.” Felix didn’t remember getting injured. All he could remember was the blind rage he felt when he thought Sylvain was dead. He looked down at his hands and blanched at the sight of dried blood -- Sylvain’s blood -- covering his hands.

Sylvain still looked like he was on the brink of death as he lay in bed. His face was pale, and Felix pulled back the bedsheet to see his chest mottled with bruises. The only comfort Felix found was the steady rising and falling of Sylvain’s chest. He pulled over a chair, not caring if it was needed for anything else, and sat down next to Felix.

Days passed, and Sylvain did not wake up. Someone had eventually moved a bed next to Sylvain -- although Felix rarely used it. He spent most of his time watching Sylvain, waiting for him to open his eyes. The professor would leave tea for him every day, and it would go untouched every day.

A soft groan startled Felix. He looked up anxiously at Sylvain, who had begun to stir. Sylvain’s eyes fluttered open, and he coughed weakly.

“Where are we?” asked Sylvain, his voice scratchy from disuse.

“We’re in an infirmary in Enbarr,” Felix replied. “It was too risky to move you back to Garreg Mach with everyone else.” Those who were capable of making the journey back left, and those like Sylvain who could not stayed in the castle with a small team of healers. When most of the army left for the monastery, no one had to ask Felix if he was staying behind.

“Oh.” Sylvain moved to sit up, but his face contorted in pain and he lay back down, shaking. Felix started for him, his heart lurching.

“Don’t move, you fool,” growled Felix. “If you need something, I’ll get it for you. Don’t injure yourself even further.” Sylvain coughed, mentioning a need for water, and Felix reluctantly left Sylvain’s side to get a glass of water. He recognized that he should probably tell one of the healers that Sylvain had awoken, but they had unfinished business to attend to first.

“Thanks Felix” said Sylvain, taking the glass of water gratefully. His brow furrowed as he looked Felix over, and Felix crossed his arms in return. “Hey, Felix, why are you still here? Did you get injured?” Felix could detect the worried note in Sylvain’s voice, and it almost made him want to laugh at the absurdity of the question. Sylvain had almost died, but he was concerned that Felix might have been injured?

“You are such a damn fool,” said Felix, earning a confused look from Sylvain. “You almost died protecting me. Did you even stop to think about how I would feel if you were gone?” Felix’s nails bit into his skin; if his arms had not been so tightly wrapped around his chest, his hands would have been shaking.

“I meant what I said, Felix,” Sylvain replied gently. “I don’t want to live in a world that doesn’t have you in it.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to leave me behind!” Felix yelled. A few of the remaining soldiers turned toward them at Felix’s outburst, but Felix was beyond caring. He reached out and put his hands on either side of Sylvain’s face, pulling him closer and touching their foreheads together. Tears fell from Felix’s eyes onto Sylvain’s cheeks, and Sylvain reached up to brush his thumb against Felix’s cheek soothingly.

“I don’t want you to die for me, Sylvain.” Felix inhaled shakily. “I want you to live for me.” Sylvain’s eyes widened, as if realization had just struck. Sylvain’s hand down moved from Felix’s cheek to tilt his chin up as he leaned forward to capture Felix’s lips in a kiss. Felix gasped into the kiss and tilted his head to allow the kiss to deepen.

When the kiss finally broke and both males were left gasping for air, neither was willing to let the other go. Sylvain’s hands snaked down to wrap around Felix’s waist, and Felix had found himself climbing onto the bed to wrap his arms around Sylvain’s neck.

“Let’s make a new promise,” Sylvain whispered against Felix’s hair. “I’ll live for you, and you’ll live for me. Be with me until we die.” Felix nodded and pressed his face against Sylvain’s neck, whispering yes against the warm skin.

* * *

The war had ended, but the battles were not over. Dimitri would not have an easy road ahead of him in unifying Fódlan, even though the Empire had fallen. When the time came to discuss where everyone would go, Sylvain and Felix both opted to return home to their territories. Upon their exit, the professor suggested that Houses Gautier and Fraldarius could perhaps become unified.

It was not until King Dimitri had solidified his power that Sylvain came to the capital to ask his old friend for permission to marry Felix. With the king’s blessing, Houses Gautier and Fraldarius became united.

The years were good to Sylvain and Felix. Neither of them bore an heir, and they were at peace with the knowledge that their Crests would not be passed down. History books said that when one died, the other lasted merely hours without him, conceding that one could not live without the other.

**Author's Note:**

> Things I said to myself while writing this:
> 
> Sylvain: clearly Felix is embarrassed that he has to ride a horse with me and it has nothing to do with his massive crush that I'm oblivious to  
*looks into the camera like I'm on The Office*
> 
> Sylvain: DON'T TELL FELIX  
Ingrid: That you were cuddling or that you're in love with him?  
Sylvain: uh, both I guess.
> 
> Boy, it sure would be a shame if a hammer was the weapon that struck Sylvain in the final battle... (when writing about Sylvain hammering the dents out of his armor)


End file.
